


Tomfoolery

by ghosty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Kink, F/M, POV Dave, POV Second Person, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:10:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosty/pseuds/ghosty
Summary: It was just one of those days.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HI oh my god I cannot believe I just found this, I wrote this literally three years ago and I forgot about it entirely!!! It's so much better than I remember ;O; Have some Dave-coming-home-from-work-and-fucking-Rose smut! <3 I'm trash!

It was… it was just one of those days, alright?

That was your only defense.

You slammed the front door on your way in, barely taking the time to place and not slam your shades down on the side table, keys and wallet going down with it. Your coat was tossed to the couch in a heap. It was not surprising when Rose’s lilting voice drifted by – “Dave?” – and you felt your chest clench even harder.

Really, though, no one could fault you. After years and bitter years of bottling up every ridiculous injustice wrought upon you, courtesy of one older brother, it just got harder to deal with other people giving you shit. Yelling wasn’t an option – you were civilized, after all, and had a cool cat reputation to uphold.

But it didn’t stop you from doing the most male thing you could have possibly done, which was channel it into sex.

“Oh, you’re home. Is everything alri–?”

And Rose Lalonde, you see, she was home, working on her research article that was due in the next three days if she wanted to get published. And, Rose Lalonde, was wearing no makeup, and hadn’t showered yet, and looked a little tired but tired in the way that left her hair more scattered than the norm and her eyes a little heavy and her with no desire to wear clothes. This left Rose Lalonde in very charming lingerie and her favourite robe with naught but a small, pleasant smile.

She couldn’t finish her sentence because you had her pressed to the wall with your mouth covering hers.

Your hands found hers first, catching her wrists swiftly and pinning them above her head – for her safety, of course – and distracted her with the burning movements of your lips against hers, coupled with grinding hips. Like it or not, your belt buckle (a shiny metal replica of Hella Jeff’s glorious mug) was pushing into her lower belly, hitting certain places, and it was only a short second before she froze, tensed, and melted with a shuddering noise of pleasure into your tongue.

How quickly did you want this to go again? You weren’t sure you had a plan to begin with. This train of thought derailed even harder as you finally breathed in through your nose and sharply inhaled her scent, no perfume and shampoo to dilute how Rose naturally smelled ( _creamy, alluring, ginger and lavender_ ).

“ _Fuck_ ,” you breathed out on her mouth. Her eyes fluttered and you caught her gaze, dilated and heavy with want. Perfect. Gorgeous. “God, I already wanted you half way across the city.”

She managed to clear her throat and vaguely smile, replying, “W-well I’m right here, now.”

“No sass, Lalonde.” You complemented your words with small, sharp bites down her jawline to the place right under her ear. And then, a soft, crooning whisper: “And I don’t think I’m letting you go anywhere for a while.”

At that, she paused, but nodded.

Oh?

“What was that?”

Hard kisses were being placed all up and down her neck, threatening.

“I, um, yes.”

The laugh was only barely contained in your throat as you sunk your teeth into her pliant skin. The sound she made was somewhere between surprise and utter bliss. You were both sure it would bruise.

“Y-yes, sir,” she corrected very quickly, and you gladly released her hands (which she left up – such a good girl, caught on so quickly) to let yours drag down the length of her arms to her hips and back up again before ending inside her elegant bra. You gave yourself a few selfish moments to reacquaint yourself with her breasts, squeezing and fondling with total disregard, before amending with brushing your thumbs over her already hard, pink nipples.

“Already?” you taunted, nipping her ear and leaving her to shiver and muffle moans. She nodded again, vigorously, but you let it slide because the look on her face was just so irresistibly hot, eyes squeezed shut, biting her swollen bottom lip for deal life, warm blush filling her cheeks to the peak.

A hard pulse shot straight to your erection, and it took most everything in you not to fuck her standing against the wall right there.

Losing patience, you undid her bra in record time and dropped it to the floor as your mouth enclosed around a nipple. Knowing Rose well enough, you already had your hands on her rib cage to hold her down as she bucked off the wall into your mouth from the intensity. Earnestly, hungrily, your tongue swirled, constantly keeping it at a tip and tugging and pinching at the other with your free hand. It turned into light biting, sucking, then, switched. Less merciful, you gently placed your teeth around this nipple and tugged outward, and Rose’s moans were sounding more and more like breathless pleads by the second.

For the second time, you withdrew, teeth grazing along the underside of her breast and kissing as you went. You hand reached around to her ass and cupped it before spanking it once, and when you inhaled, your nostrils were filled with the knee-buckling, mouth-watering scent of _wet_.

“Ohhhh my fucking Christ,” you half-gasped. Almost disbelieving, you began kneeling down. “No way in hell. You couldn’t actually be…” …that wet. You didn't finish the sentence. You couldn't. Your fingers urgently tugged down the lace line of her panties, and they moved down her soft hair to meet nothing but hot, sticky, damp. Fuck.

A crooked, loopy smile came over your lips and a low sound of appreciation came from your throat.

“Oh, _Rosie_ …” you drawled. “You _shouldn’t_ have. You spoil me so bad.”

Rose, trembling and breathing unevenly as she tried to stay vertical, stammered, “That’s… I… I-it’s your fault, you know…”

“My fault?” You licked your lips and began pulling the regrettably lovely underwear down and down to her toes. “S'pose I should take responsibility. Would you mind if I did?”

“Nn… Not at all, sir. Don’t mind me.”

And just like that, your tongue was buried in nothing but glorious cunt. Her taste flooded your mouth and nose, and you didn’t both withholding the groan of satisfaction that rumbled from your chest and straight unto her.

If Rose’s nipples were sensitive in the way that made her claw and squirm, Rose’s clit was sensitive in the way that made her turn to butter. Her mewls and moans turned into soft, catching gasps as she struggle to get the words out – _please, please, more, oh god, yes, I can’t, I can’t, **I can’t**_ – and her knees fought not to buckle and knock. Greedily, your fingers pried against her hips and ass, squeezing and groping, alternating between dragging the flat of your tongue against her and flicking it with the hard tip, between sweetly caressing her back with the utmost adoration and letting your nails leave pretty marks on her sides. Her own fingers were laced into your hair, urging you to where she wanted, and you felt her shake and fumble and drew back before she came.

“No.” Your voice was a hard, shaky command. “Don’t you dare. Not yet, not until I fucking tell you you can.”

Rose whined in protest and it was delicious and you rapidly undid your belt and zipper and kicked off your skinny jeans with far too little speed or patience.

Your cock was stiff to the point of near-pain, all skin taut and bulging to the head. Rose’s eyes glanced at it and glazed over, completely consumed by need, uncaring about how she looked sounded, and for a moment you felt weak-hearted because god fucking damn it you loved this girl. And you loved that she was smart, and snarky, and there for you. You loved that she wrote her high-profile academic papers in her negligee, and that she smiled when you got home, and that she would let you do this to her.

Certainly, you weren’t good enough for this seraph.

“Come here,” you murmured, voice rough, and captured her chin to direct her lips to yours. It was a kiss that sent bubbling fireworks up your spine and desire renewed tenfold, you guided yourself to her entrance to meet what felt like miles of slippery juices and heat, and you rubbed against her like that for a moment, rocking back and forth, before sliding up and in and _ohhhhh my fu-ck-ing **god**_.

She was tight. She was a million degrees. She was swallowing your cock whole, and you strained to keep your balance and maintain her weight against the wall. You were choking for air and haphazardly gritting out her name like gospel, and she in turn was crying out for _more_ and _please_ and _thank you_ and _yes_ and _oh god I can’t_.

“But– you– _can_ ,” you growled insistently. And you fucked her harder. You knew you were hitting the right place, because somehow she got even warmer ( _!!!_ ) and her eyes shot open and her mouth hung in shaky silence.

“Aw,” you teased. “Y-you’re awful cute wh-when… you get… like that…”

“Dave,” she whimpered. “D-dave, Dave, Dave, _please_ …”

“Please?” he groaned. “P-please what?”

“Cumissideme!”

You very nearly did.

“Ssay again?”

She was redder than a cherry and looked like she was about to burst. But, to her credit, Rose Lalonde mumbled, “C-cum inside me. P.. pleaaase. Let me cum.”

Graciously, torturously, you smirked against her cheek and slipped your hand between your bodies. Your fingertips hardly grazed over her and she jerked hard against you, writhing and squealing, and she clenched up hard and, yeah, okay, you were fucked, you were so fucked. You barely managed to get out, “Cum. Now. Rose. Cum for me. With me. Now.” And then you felt the world tilt, and you exploded into a million burning pieces inside her. Rose milked you clean, truthfully, and if the way she squeezed and panted and clutched at your shoulders meant anything, she probably was having an orgasm as ridiculous as your own.

You’re not sure when it happened, but you were in a tangled heap on the carpeted floor in the hall, and she was planting a half-unconscious kiss on the corner of your mouth.

And, well, you felt much better.


End file.
